I’ve fallen victim to medical mind tricks.
Damnit! Damn silent stoic know-it-all doctor face.
I had to go in for a prescription renewal yesterday. This is something I have been putting off. Irresponsible, yes. Logical, of course not. Like that ever stops me from following through with a thought process?!
The script is for blood pressure. Yes. I’m 37 and I take BP meds. Why? Because of many many excuses that almost make up for the reasoning and logic and dialogue that goes through my head every time I have to take my daily medication. I’m overweight. Not because of some tragic oppressive story about my upbringing. Not because I have an irreversible medical condition. Not because I was born with anything other than the genes my parents gave me. Just because I make bad choices and always have.
So I put off the first renewal and had to get an emergency refill. I do few things well, but the best of these is procrastination.
I sucked up my frustration and made an appointment for Wednesday. I worked myself up into a tizzie the whole drive and wait in the doc office.
Because in my head, my doctor will become THE Doctor that makes an example out of me for all the thousands of people he deals with that do not take control of their own medical maladies. I had run through in my head all the terrible things he was going to tell me, all the statistics on all the people who die from not changing their habits. I had perfected the shamed and guilty look while still holding my hand out for the prescription refill.
In reality, none of the above happened.
The assistant weighed me. Which was enough of a slap in the face, thankyouverymuch.
He came in, asked if any side effects had happened, to which I replied “no”. He said “Ok, so here’s what we talked about last time. How’s it going? Where do I send the refill?”
And that was it. … or so I thought.
I was berating myself up to and following my visit. No one can shame you like your self, afterall. My conscience took over where the doctor failed to travel. I was beating myself up for continuing to make bad choices all the way out to the car.
And then, for some inexplicable reason, all I could think of was food. Such a cruel joke. I ran through a whole animated Broadway show of all the food I love that I shouldn’t have eaten. All the favorites were dancing in front of my mind’s eye. Chinese Food, Burritos, Chips & Salsa, Panera bread bowls, Red Robin fries, pasta, Tacos… it went on for quite a while. I think there might’ve been an intermission with popcorn. Buttered popcorn.
I had to pick up my son from an early day and decided an afternoon home with both kids would cause me to raid my pantry. Something stocked stupidly with all sorts of willpower challenges.
So bright and intelligent me decides to take the kids to Red Robin to help the afternoon along.
I got a chicken wrap (sans cheese) with a side of broccoli instead of fries.
See? I’m making an effort here! My fingers perhaps might have strayed onto my child’s plate and possibly snagged a french fry here and there. I’m not saying it didn’t happen, but i’m not saying it did, either. Surely the broccoli counted for something?
And now i’m CONSTANTLY thinking about my food choices. CONSTANTLY. It’s like my doctor’s silence on the issue did more damage than any lecture could have done.
Every day is an ongoing struggle and dialogue about food. It’s everywhere. In my head, on TV, in my kid’s hands, in my house, in my furniture and car. It’s a frigging mind trip. In some ways I believe if I was working, it wouldn’t be such an issue, but then again I use any excuse to ‘celebrate’ and treat myself and those around me. Working only adds to the roster of available possibilities.
As of right now this very moment, i’m trying to gain control of something that on one hand is a healthy awareness, and on the other can turn into an obsession that pushes me to make bad choices. Walking is hindered by weather at this moment. I’m not going to let that take over and cancel any motivation, however. I managed to not snack yesterday. I kept to the basics and held strong.
Today I plan on doing the same, and throwing in some healthy options along the way. Raisins. Oranges. Apples. These are things I have in my house right now. I’m going to ignore – and possibly throw out – the chips and the sweets.
If I begin small with the controllable things i’m now comfortable with, tomorrow I can tackle going out for a walk. One step at a time I will get it under control.
I do not want to be diabetic. I do not want that added complication to my day, life, body, routine. I DO NOT WANT IT.
I’m pre-diabetic right now…. which is sort of a silly term for me. Both parents had/have diabetes. I was sort of born ‘pre’ diabetic.
At the same time I can be thinking about this very fact, and also my love of bread, potatoes, and all carbs. I’m not selective.
But now I also have an imaginary hand waiting to thunk the back of my head if I reach for anything carb-related.
Sugar isn’t such a big deal with me, but carbs and salt are.
So i’m a work in progress. A great big giant work dangling along the precipice of a huge cliff. A cliff wrought with needles and insulin and shots and blood sugar readings. A great cavern of side effects and medication and bypass surgeries and angioplastys and EKGs await me at the bottom. And a casket, really. A grave where my body would tumble into on it’s own, propelled by sheer gravity on my big round body.
I know exactly the direction I’m heading because my father led a life illustrating all the things that could and do go wrong with NOT changing your lifestyle after looking right into the reality of what these choices do to your body – and family.
So why do I still struggle?! Why is it STILL something that I have to think about and consider and mull over and justify?
Being fat is overwhelmingly exhausting. No wonder we eat for pleasure!!
Just another day in the head of a fat chick.